The Wind Beneath the Wings
by TheNewIdea
Summary: Ernie the Giant Chicken's life before Peter Griffin wasn't all that different from Peter's. He worked at Happy-Go-Lucky Toy Factory under Mr. Weed, he had a house. That's pretty where the similarities end as Ernie, an average everyday citizen becomes an unlikely hero when he goes against the Heavyweight Champion of the World, Rocky Balboa style.


1987

The sound of the bell rung through the air, ten seconds stood between victory and defeat. All he had to do was stand up and he would be back in the match. His face was bloody, his nose was broken and he could barely see. The World Heavyweight Championship was on the line.

Theodore "Ted" McGrath was not your average fighter, being a giant British Bulldog aside, for he had what most professional boxers at the time didn't, heart. But it takes more than heart and courage to stand up against a man like Sergio Napier, the current champion. It takes skill, it takes finesse, and the willpower to not give up. These things McGrath thought he had. Now, in the tenth round, he was beginning to lose steam, his trainer, Ellis Gardner, was screaming at him to stand up. The crowd was telling him to stay down, for most of them supported Napier. Before Ted had time to think, after seven seconds of struggling to stand, at the three second mark, he fell unconscious.

Napier had won, he had beaten the only chance anyone had of seeing him dethroned. At least, that's what everyone believed. Napier would continue being the World Heavyweight Champion, undefeated with no challenging opposition and simply enjoying the domination of other people. It was getting to the point where the National Boxing League was questioning how Sergio kept his title for so long. They needed a ringer, someone like McGrath, different, who stood out from the crowd and was easily marketable but also had the ear of the people and a prayer to his name. In short, they needed a miracle.

* * *

><p>Quahog 1993 was different than it is now. For the longest time, about fifty or so years, it was a place where everybody knew everybody and no one caused trouble or went looking for it. It was a place where the men drank at the bar for an hour and then go home and the women held steady jobs to support themselves, usually as secretaries or consultants to higher ups, as well as keep house. The boys and girls would play outside without fear of being taken, and the teenagers would sneak out after dark and head off to the various make out points and parks, have sex, party and do otherwise deviant things away from the eyes of worried parents and scolding grandmothers.<p>

Spooner Street was no exception. On the right side of the street were Quagmire, in his usual house; to his right was a recently empty house, the previous owners having moved to Iowa for unexplained reasons. Next to the empty house was Joe, who still had the use of his legs, and Bonnie Swanson. Directly across the street from Joe was a blue house, right next to the other one that was home to Cleveland Brown. This house, which had a white picket fence and a well-kept lawn, belonged to Ernie the Giant Chicken.

Ernie walked out of his house to his mailbox to get the newspaper and ignore bills, just like every other citizen, while Joe made his way to his car, headed off to a busy day of paperwork at the station.

"Mornin' Joe" Ernie said, fighting his accent, with had a slight drawl, a result of time in the hills of Kentucky, "Ready for a fun filled fantastic day of paperwork again?"

Joe laughed, catching the chicken's sarcasm.

"Maybe you should try it then" Joe replied, "I'm sure it beats working at that damn toy factory all day."

Ernie rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, for he hated the toy factory and especially the boss, Mr. Weed, who was a slave driver at the best of times.

"I'm looking at my options" Ernie confessed, "It's just not for me Mr. Swanson. Assembly lines and boxes and everything. It was only supposed to be temporary you know? And I've been stuck there for five years getting the same pay as a new hire, doing the same thing."

Ernie fought off tears, they were not necessarily sad ones, more like tears of desperation.

"Face it, my very existence is a joke. I'm not even worthy to stand on the same ground as you."

Joe was fiddling with his keys at the door, in honesty he wasn't really paying attention, the only reason he stayed at all was to avoid being rude, for he liked Ernie and didn't want to hurt his feelings by being indifferent to his problems.

"Something will come up" Joe said, giving a stock answer, "Just hang in there, you'll do fine."

Ernie knew that Joe meant well but could tell that he had lost interest. He was hoping for words of encouragement, not on the job front but on the point of his existence, he wanted to be told that he mattered to somebody, that he contributed to something greater than himself. Ernie turned around and slowly headed inside his house, giving Joe the opportunity to slip out of his driveway with a guilt free conscious.

Through the blinds of his living room Ernie saw Joe's car drive away, he could tell it was going faster than it needed to be, but not enough to get a ticket over it. When Joe had disappeared completely, Ernie looked around and couldn't help but think that this was the end of the road. That this was to be his life until it finally ended.

_"I need a change"_ Ernie thought to himself, _"A big change, something different. Something extraordinary."_

Ernie turned to the back wall, on which was a promotional poster for Theodore McGrath, his hero, on the way to the 1987 World Heavyweight Championship.

"What would you do Ted?" Ernie asked, talking to poster as if it were alive, "Would you sit down and let the world stomp on you? Or would you take the Sergio Napiers of the world, who think they're better than everyone else, and show them what it is you can do?"

He was greeted with silence, and he wasn't expecting an answer, for he was talking to a poster, but in his mind Ernie liked to believe that he got a response.

Ten minutes later Ernie found himself in a white button up shirt, a red tie and suit pants. He wasn't particularly comfortable, but at the factory comfort was the last thing on your mind, the only thing you were worried about was meeting your quota and praying to God that Mr. Weed doesn't talk to you.

As he made his way towards the door, Ernie took one last look at the Ted McGrath on his wall, he couldn't help but smile as he thought about some choice words during an interview with Tom Tucker, then a junior anchorman.

"Humility is not denying your greatness, but rather accepting it and acknowledging that your greatness has nothing to do with you and everything to do with God."

Ernie didn't know why this came to him in that moment, perhaps it was something he needed to hear, something to cheer him up. It doesn't matter. Ernie often quoted and re-quoted McGrath, seeing in him a golden standard of which to live by. To him, Theodore McGrath was an exalted being, right behind his father, Ernest, of which he is named after; Abraham Lincoln, the 16th President of the United States; Mahatma Gandhi; Martin Luther King Jr.; The 11 Apostles (not counting Judas), with specific regard to Peter, James, Stephen and Matthew; The Virgin Mary; Jesus Christ; and finally, God.

Rushing out the door and entering his car, an old beat up station wagon from his father, Ernie trudged his way through early morning traffic towards the toy factory. Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You", Number 1 on the Top 100 Billboard list, was playing on the radio. Just like everybody else who heard it, Ernie belted, over sang, and generally destroyed it by trying to sound exactly like Whitney Houston, which is close to impossible to do, the only possible exception being Mariah Carey, who's hit "Dreamlover", was also frequently heard across the airways, being Number 8 on the Billboard list that year.

As he drove Ernie made his way into Quahog's shopping district. It was here that Goldman's Pharmacy, the Drunken Clam, and the Stop 'n Shop were found. All of them were conveniently located at or between the intersections of Cherry and Main or Cherry and Bardstown.

The station wagon stopped at Cherry and Main. Ernie casually looked to his right. In the window of the Stop 'n Shop, which faced Bardstown, directly across the street from the Clam, on Cherry, the road Ernie was currently on, the chicken saw, for a total of five seconds, the grocer working the register. The only thing he could really tell from the car was that the grocer was female, the apron she was wearing was green and that she was checking out a hideously large, almost to the point of revoltingly large, man who seemed to care little about his appearance and the opinion of others, for he was in a bathrobe and pink fuzzy house shoes.

The light turned green. The station wagon pushed forward, heading towards the factory. Ernie, curiosity getting the better of him, strained to try and get a look at the grocer's face from his side mirror as he passed, the only thing he saw was the lane number-12.

"Lane 12" Ernie thought to himself, "Remember that Ernie. Lane 12."

Pulling into the toy factory parking lot, ten minutes late for work due to heavy morning traffic Ernie, in a mad rush, yanked his car keys out of the ignition and threw them in the front passenger seat. As soon as he opened the door, out of habit Ernie locked it and naturally shut the door. It wasn't until he heard the slam of the door closing did he remember his keys, connected to which, was his pass that allowed him entrance to the building.

"You've got to be kidding me" Ernie exclaimed in disbelief, "Are you serious right now?"

Ernie looked up in total desperation, by the time he got hold of a locksmith it would be too late to even try to clock in, and there was no way that he was going to get Mr. Weed to help.

"That's it" Ernie said as he began to pace frantically in front of his car, "I'm fired, I know I'm fired. Might as well have just written my own will, would've been a hell of a lot easier."

Ernie immediately thought about all the times that he said he was going to walk away and never return. He thought about the promises he made to his co-workers, who thought little of him to begin with, about how he was going to make something of himself if he ever got out. Now, an opportunity had presented itself, all he had to do was reach out and take it.

"I'll just walk away" Ernie declared confidently, "Not like they need me anyway. They won't even know I'm gone. In a few weeks they'll find somebody else just as good, maybe even better."

Ernie giddily began to laugh at the idea, of simply walking away from his responsibility, of doing what he said he would never do under any circumstance, deviate. There was only one problem- his car was in the parking lot. Weed would know something was up if he saw Ernie's car and no Ernie.

Looking around, pondering his situation, weighing the pros and cons, Ernie considered everything from extremes like destroying the car and faking his death to more mild solutions like calling in sick or having a death in the family to buy him time. Since destroying the car was out of the question, for his keys also had the keys to his house and faking his death was both too complicated and overdone, Ernie went with the milder solutions. Because he couldn't think of anything good to pretend to be sick over, Ernie opted for death in the family. Running at the end of the parking lot, where there was a payphone, Ernie fished out a quarter from his shirt pocket and dialed Mr. Weed's number. It picked up on the first ring.

"Happy-Go-Lucky Toy Factory" Weed began, "This is Mr. Weed, manager, how can I help you?"

Ernie, at the sound of Weed's voice, shrunk, his nerve completely disappearing. He wanted to cry, for he never lied before to Weed before and had always been told that superiors were to be treated with the upmost respect.

"Mr. Weed" Ernie said nervously, "It's me, Ernie."

Weed paused uncomfortably, it was obvious that he did not remember him, or he did and he was being intimidating. Either way, the pause was enough for Ernie to sweat and gulp down unnatural amounts of air. After several minutes of nothing, seconds before Weed was about to hang up, Ernie started again.

"The Chicken"

Weed immediately became infuriated, for now he knew who he was, Ernie being the only giant chicken, or chicken in general, who worked for him.

"Chicken!" Weed replied, the anger in his voice was clear, "Get your ass on the line in five minutes or I'm firing you!"

Ernie resisted every urge to comply. Taking a deep breath, Ernie began his lie.

"I can't come in today. You see there's been a tragedy. A death in the family. My grandmother, God rest her soul, didn't make through the night. She's been sick for a while now and it was a only a matter of time."

This was not a lie, for Ernie's grandmother was sick and didn't have much longer to live. The thought of it alone caused Ernie to cry, which only made his performance more believable.

"I've pretty broken up about it" Ernie continued as real tears streamed down his face, some of them slipping through his beak and tasting bitter, "The funeral's in a few days in Oregon and I have to be there."

Weed huffed in partial disbelief.

"Do you?" Weed pressed indifferently.

Ernie laughed uncomfortably, it was natural, for the prospect of him going to Oregon was all too real, for his grandmother lived in the state; but it was also another effect to keep up the rouse.

"It's my grandmother sir" Ernie explained sternly, "I have to see her. She's the only one left. Please, give me the next week or two off and I'll-"

Weed growled cutting him off.

"I've given you enough time!" Weed barked, "More time than you deserve. Besides I can't afford you being gone for two weeks, not when we have a quota to meet."

Ernie sighed heavily, it seemed there was nothing he could do. Just as he was about to speak again, Weed interrupted.

"The factory's doing some downsizing Chicken" Weed explained, his voice slow and calm, almost strangely calm, as if Weed was thinking dastardly thoughts, "We've had to make some cutbacks…and since you're so dead set on seeing this dead grandmother of yours, I see no reason why you shouldn't work while in Oregon, or anywhere."

Ernie stammered uneasily, on the inside he was dancing the jig.

"What are you saying sir?" Ernie asked, trying his best to maintain the situation.

Weed laughed, "To put it plainly" he said in a snobbish voice, "You're fired…Oh and do make sure to get your keys from your car Chicken, don't want you forgetting those do we?"

Weed hung up the phone. Ernie looked towards the upper factory floor, he swore that he felt Weed's eyes watching him, taking note of his every move.

Seeing no alternative, Ernie hung up the phone and proceeded to find the nearest stick to break the driver side window. When it was done, car alarm blaring, Ernie reached through the broken pieces of glass, unlocked the door, stepped inside, took the keys and drove out of the parking lot heading back to his house, making sure to pass the Shop 'n Stop on his way.


End file.
